


Shelter from the Storm

by wowbright



Series: Glee Season 6 Episode Reactions [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Chubby Kink, Daddy Kink, Episode Related, Episode: s06e01 Loser Like Me, Episode: s06e02 Homecoming, Episode: s06e03 Jagged Little Tapestry, Episode: s06e04 The Hurt Locker Part 1, Falling In Love, Love Triangles, M/M, Psychotherapy, Size Difference, Size Kink, Therapy, background Klaine - Freeform, blainofsky - Freeform, just to be clear, mid-ship, there is no cheating in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:11:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wowbright/pseuds/wowbright
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine and Dave have a honeymoon phase before the cracks in their relationship start to show. This is a reaction to 6.01 "Loser Like Me" through 6.04 “The Hurt Locker” and follow-up to the fic <a href="http://wowbright.tumblr.com/post/108233496600/fic-anchor-blaine-dave-pg-13"><i>Anchor</i></a> (but can probably be read without); this part includes references to 6.01 "Loser Like Me" only</p><p><b>Thanks:</b> to the betaing team of <a class="tumblelog" href="http://tmblr.co/mKSSjzs1Pyy6PEjMmy3oqGg">judearaya</a>, <a class="tumblelog" href="http://tmblr.co/mpOHF95NixEx2pyFKNhJE6w">nachochang</a> and <a class="tumblelog" href="http://tmblr.co/m_BuVSD2BFzleXckNpa886g">chiasmuslovesme</a>.</p><p>Also on <a href="">tumblr.</a></p><p> </p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p8whzxttOIk&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B">Here's a playlist</a>. You might enjoy the story more if you've heard the songs mentioned in it, but you'll still know what 's going on without.</p><p>Also on <a href="http://wowbright.tumblr.com/post/109450799705/fic-shelter-from-the-storm-part-1-blaine-dave">tumblr</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Blaine apparently has two modes when it comes to guys he’s attracted to: sleep with them at the drop of a hat because they aren’t relationship material, and if things go south it doesn’t really matter since he never plans to see them again anyway; or slow-as-molasses, painfully chaste courtship because if he messes things up he’ll split into so many pieces he might not be able to put himself – or the other person – back together again.

So he hasn’t had sex with Dave yet, though it’s hard to stop himself at moments like these in the back of Dave’s car when they’re kissing non-stop. Blaine gets carried away fast, clambering onto Dave’s lap like a kid scaling a tree. He loves how colossal Dave is, likes to reach his arms around Dave’s waist like it’s a tree trunk, not letting his hands meet in the middle even though they really could. Blaine likes the pretend of it, the idea that he’s hugging a giant, the idea that Dave could pin him down and hurt him if he wanted to – but he doesn’t, and that’s all the difference.

It turns Blaine on like there’s no tomorrow.

“God, you’re massive,” Blaine squeaks out breathlessly between kisses, his voice so rattled with desire that it sounds like he’s talking about Dave’s dick and not the size of his waist.

Dave’s body stiffens beneath him. His lips stop moving on Blaine's neck.

Blaine pushes against Dave’s chest so he can back up a little, see the boy’s eyes in the dim light of the Scandals parking lot.

But Dave won’t look back at him. Dave stares at the door handle and doesn’t blink.

“Hey,” Blaine says, trying not to panic. It’s much too early for them to get into their first fight. Blaine takes a deep breath, followed by another. “What’s wrong?”

Dave doesn’t move.

“Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Dave blinks, looks up toward Blaine’s face but doesn’t get past his chin. “I’m – um. I guess I'm a little self-conscious about my weight around you.”

Memories flash behind Blaine’s eyes: Dave smiling when the other patrons at Scandals call him by his latest nickname, “Mr. Grizzly”; Dave at the bar with another former McKinley football player, boastfully comparing the size of their biceps.

“I don’t understand,” Blaine says. “I thought you’re proud of your body.”

Dave pulls his arms close to his sides and shrinks against the seat. “I am, usually. But around you –” He trails off.

“But I never –” No, that’s never a good way to start a sentence. Those three words must have ignited a hundred arguments with Kurt. “Did I do something to make you feel that way?”

Dave shakes his head.

“Okay. Then what?”

Dave’s eyes creep a little higher. He makes glancing eye contact as he says, “My body is nothing like Kurt’s.”

 _That’s why I like you_ , Blaine almost says, but it sounds too much like, _That’s the only reason I like you._

“You don’t need to be like Kurt,” Blaine says. “Kurt and I are over.” He concentrates on making those syllables sound as casual and resolute as they should feel.

Dave doesn’t seem convinced. He’s back to staring at Blaine’s shirt pocket.

“Dave,” Blaine says. “Can you look at me?”

Dave looks up hesitantly. Blaine is struck by how such a solid man can look so fragile.

“I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror," Blaine says. "But when I see you – you’re really hot.”

Even in the dark, Blaine thinks he can see a blush creep across Dave’s cheeks.

“And I won’t mention your size again after this if you don’t want me to, but first I want you to know that I love how big you are compared to me. I love standing next to you, because it makes me feel like – like I’m in your shade, protected from things that could hurt me.” Blaine rests an open hand on the center of Dave’s chest. “You’re solid and strong and … real. I feel like you’ll always be there. Like you could never disappear.”

“I won’t,” Dave says, almost inaudibly.

“And you’re just – I don’t know how good I am at explaining it, but – your body turns me on. _You_ turn me on. I like that you're this big grizzly and I’m just a tiny … BooBoo, I guess, if we’re going to keep going with that metaphor.”

Dave cracks a smile. “As in ‘Yogi and BooBoo’?”

“Yup.”

“Only you could bring up old Hanna-Barbera cartoons in the middle of this and make it sound romantic.”

Blaine swallows. _Romance._ That’s what they’ve been doing this whole time, isn’t it? It’s not the desperate, painful, live-or-die kind that Christian preaches in _Moulin Rouge._ But it’s real.

It’s theirs.

It gives Blaine the courage to say more. “Dave, I need you to know – I can’t imagine my life back in Lima without you. If we hadn’t run into each other that night, I’d probably be at home right now binge-watching _Gilmore Girls_ and crying into my Coke. It would be pathetic.”

“That doesn’t sound _too_ pathetic,” Dave says sweetly, nuzzling Blaine’s chin and soothing his palm over Blaine’s hip. “I hear Gilmore Girls is really good at pulling the heartstrings.”

“Well,” Blaine says. “This is better. Because I love being next to you and I love making out with you, and I love touching your big, beautiful body, and I –”

Dave doesn’t let him continue, just pulls him in with the urgency of a drowning man catching on to his lifeline and kisses him hard. “I love you,” he murmurs as he comes up for breath. “I love you, Blaine Anderson.”

It’s way sooner than Blaine ever expected to hear those words again. But it doesn’t feel wrong. This thing between him and Dave – it’s not at all like what Blaine had with Kurt. It’s quiet and calm, almost sedate at times.

And judging from what happened with Kurt, that’s probably a good thing.

* * *

The first time they get naked together isn’t exactly planned ahead of time, which is good, or Blaine would probably be so nervous he’d vibrate out of his skin. Instead, it happens so easily: they’re rolling around in Blaine’s bed on a Tuesday afternoon when both his parents are at work, and Blaine tugs at Dave’s frustrating shirt – frustrating because it covers Dave’s body and the miles of soft hair Blaine can feel when he slips his hands under it – and without missing a beat, Dave pulls it off over his head and then Blaine pulls his own off and their chests press together and the softness of Dave’s hair and the way his flesh yields to Blaine’s touch is so unfamiliarly erotic that Blaine’s eyes roll back in his head.

The pants go just as quickly, and there’s grabbing and moaning and fast, spit-slick movements of hands. Blaine wraps his legs around one of Dave’s thighs, feels the silken fur of it against his skin. _It’s like fucking a teddy bear_ , he wants to say, but there’s no way for that to come out the right way, so instead he just strokes his free hand along Dave’s side and pulls him closer. He rolls onto his back and tries to pull Dave with him, over him – he wants to be covered by Dave’s body, feel the weight of it pressing him down into the bed. But Dave never lifts completely off the mattress, instead resting on his side while Blaine lies on his back, watching Blaine’s face.

“You’re gorgeous like this,” Dave says as he moves his hand up and down Blaine’s cock. “You’re always gorgeous, but like this – God, I want you.” And without missing a beat he lowers himself between Blaine’s legs and starts sucking him off like dicks have been discontinued and this is the final clearance sale before they’re all gone.

“Shit,” Blaine moans, grabbing the headboard with one hand and trying not to come,

There’s a popping sound as Dave frees Blaine from the suction of his mouth. “I’ve never heard you say _that_ before,” Dave says coyly. “Was that good swearing or bad swearing?”

 _And I’ve never heard you be coy before,_ Blaine doesn’t say. “It was ‘please-keep-doing-that’ swearing.”

“My pleasure,” Dave says with a little wink. “I love giving head. It makes me feel so _gay_.”

* * *

They fall asleep afterward. Blaine’s the first to wake up, and he takes the opportunity to pull the sheet back and stare at Dave’s body, falling in love with it for all the ways it doesn’t remind him of Kurt: the massive thighs and the cute, jiggly ass; the soft mound of a stomach; the fine brown hair that trails from the armpits past the pubis, then all the way down to the ankles.

“You really are a bear,” Blaine says in wonderment when Dave opens his eyes. He strokes his palm over the soft fur on Dave’s inner thigh.

Dave’s face splits into a smile. “You have a fixation, don’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

Dave strokes his hand down Blaine’s hairless chest. “Are you naturally this smooth?”

“No. I get my chest waxed once in a while and pluck or shave in between.”

Dave squints at Blaine like he’s trying to figure him out. “I don’t get it. Why would you do that if you like hair so much?”

“You want me to have chest hair?” Blaine asks.

”I didn’t say that,” Dave says, his voice going coy for the second time that day. “I kind of like the contrast.”

“Me, too,” says Blaine, rolling over on top of Dave and pressing their chests together and giving him a peck on the lips. “Anyway, my hair’s not as nice as yours. It’s all wiry and scraggly, and it grows in these weird kind of patches. I’ve tried letting it grow out before but … I don’t know. I’m just always aware of it rubbing against my clothes. I feel better without it.”

“Fair enough.”

“But I like yours.” Blaine ducks down Dave’s body, grabbing a tuft of chest hair between his teeth and pulling lightly. “You have no idea how much.”

Dave laughs. “Oh, I’m starting to get an idea.”

* * *

“How are things going with Dave?” Dr. Joyce asks.

Blaine feels so happy at the mention of the name that he has to shove his folded hands between his knees to keep from bursting. “Good,” he says. He can feel his ears turn red, but he doesn’t care if she notices.

“Ah. You two are in the honeymoon phase?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

Dr. Joyce nods once, her signal for him to continue.

“It’s just – It’s so different than it was with Kurt. It’s so … easy. We never argue about anything. We haven’t had a single disagreement, even – unless you count what game to watch on cable, but even then, he usually just goes with whatever I want to watch, and he doesn’t get all weirdly passive-aggressive about it like Kurt used to.”

Dr. Joyce is silent for a few moments before she speaks. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to burst your bubble, Blaine, but if you stay with him long enough, the disagreements will come eventually. The important thing isn’t to avoid having them. It’s learning how to have them fairly. It’s about learning to listen to the other person and to yourself, and learning to compromise without giving up your sense of self-worth.”

Blaine doesn’t want to talk about this right now, or maybe ever. “Sure sounds like you’re trying to burst my bubble,” he mutters.

* * *

Even though Blaine has been over to Dave’s house a dozen times, he still hasn’t met Dave’s parents. Which isn’t as weird as it sounds, since Dave has night classes and they do most of their weekday hanging out in the afternoons before Dave’s parents get home from work.

Dave’s said only positive things about his father, but his mom is another matter. She was slow to come around to the idea that Dave was gay, and even though she’s apologized for the way she reacted when she first found out, she changes the subject whenever anything having to do with his gayness comes up.

And then one day, he and Dave are heading out for the Lima Bean when Blaine opens the front door and there, on the other side with a key in the lock and her hand on the doorknob, is Elaine Karofsky. Blaine recognizes her from the pictures above the mantel.

“Oh!” She startles and jumps slightly back, her eyes open wide.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Mrs. –” Blaine starts, but suddenly Dave is right next to him, wrapping a hand around Blaine’s shoulder and pulling him close to his side.

“You know about Blaine Anderson,” Dave says with the tone of a kid who’s got a new toy to show off at show-and-tell. “He’s my boyfriend.”

Mrs Karofsky blinks twice and tugs at her purse strap in what Blaine gathers to be a nervous habit. She clears her throat and says stiffly, “Nice to meet you, Blaine,” her arms held tight to her sides.

She’s not nearly as intimidating as Blaine expected her to be, but she’s not exactly warm, either. No matter. Blaine could charm the rattles off a rattlesnake if he wanted to, and there’s not a woman in the world he couldn’t get to love him (well, except for maybe Sue Sylvester and Santana – but they hate pretty much everybody, so that’s a confounding factor). He holds out his hand and smiles. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Karofsky. I’ve been wanting to tell you what a great job you’ve done raising Dave. He’s a real gentleman.”

Her face softens into a smile. She takes his hand and shakes it timidly. “Thank you.”

“Blaine’s a show choir director, and he loves fashion,” Dave cuts in proudly, as if he’s just come up with the perfect sentence to summarize Blaine Anderson. There’s something else in his voice, too – almost like a taunt. _Here’s my gay boyfriend who’s into very gay things. Got a problem with that?_ But maybe Blaine’s nerves are making him imagine things.

“And he’s been very involved in the campaign for marriage equality here in Ohio,” Dave adds.

Okay, maybe Blaine’s _not_ imagining things.

“How nice,” she says, but her smile disappears.

Dave, on the other hand, grins all the way to the Lima Bean.

* * *

Dave wasn’t kidding about loving to give head. He goes down on Blaine at every opportunity: in the car when Blaine picks him up from class at Rhodes State College; on Wednesdays when they can only sneak in a half hour with each other after Blaine’s Warbler practice and before Dave’s work; during halftime and commercial breaks when they’re watching TV; when Blaine’s baking cookies and they have 10 minutes to kill before it’s time to take them out of the oven.

Sometimes it’s fast and sloppy-wet from the way that Dave drools for more, and Dave gets so carried away that he’s accidentally scraped a tooth along the underside of Blaine’s cock more than once. No matter. It’s a small price to pay for such enthusiastic blowjobs. And there’s something endearing about it, too, in the way that Dave utterly loses control.

“Love when you come on my face.” Dave wipes his cheek off with a tissue after quick, cramped blowjobs in the front seat of Blaine’s mother’s car one night. “It makes me feel like such a fag.” His voice dances on the last syllable, relishes it like the most delicious dessert.

Blaine's stomach clenches. It's one of the few words he's never been comfortable reclaiming, even though he understands intellectually why people do. He breathes through the discomfort as he dabs at some semen Dave missed on his jaw. “I’m glad you don’t think that word’s an insult anymore.”

“Fuck no,” Dave says. “It’s the world’s highest compliment. I love feeling this way. Wish I could suck you off all the time.”

They’re in Dave’s driveway, and Dave had wanted to go inside, but Dave’s mom is home and Blaine got the niggling suspicion that half the reason Dave wanted to be in there was to rub their gayness in her face by getting Blaine to come as loudly as possible.

“Your jaw would get sore,” Blaine says. “Also, you need to eat.”

“You’re adorable, BooBoo,” Dave says, running a finger along Blaine’s chin. “Always watching out for my well-being.”

Blaine smiles and leans his head against Dave’s chest. “It’s not completely altruistic. I mean, I’ve got to make sure you stay healthy so you can keep giving me blowjobs.”

Dave kisses the top of Blaine’s head. “Seriously, though. I’ve been thinking of moving out. Getting my own place.”

“So we can have sex all the time?”

Dave snickers. “Maybe that’s part of it. But also – I need to grow up, you know? Put on my big boy pants and try living like an adult.”

These days, memories of New York are rarely pleasant. But that feeling of being away from your parents and building a new life with the people you choose – that one still feels warm, even after all that’s happened. “You’re already a big boy,” Blaine says, pressing a kiss against Dave’s shoulder. “But I know what you mean.”

* * *

It’s not all quick and furtive. Sometimes they both have an afternoon off and the house to themselves and it’s hours of slow, teasing exploration. Blaine loves brushing his hands all over Dave’s body, feeling soft contours where Kurt had jagged edges. It fills him with wonder that one man’s body can be so different from another’s, and yet both be so desirable.

He likes the taste of Dave’s skin and sweat, inexplicably different from Kurt’s but somehow familiar, but he doesn’t particularly like the taste of Dave’s come – and he likes that he doesn’t like it, that it’s musky and acrid and doesn’t remind him at all of the strange, almost sweet undertones that Kurt’s had.

There are things that Blaine wants but doesn’t ask for. Things like being pinned down and fucked into the headboard – or even fucked at all. But Blaine doesn’t want to push Dave into anything he’s not ready for.

And this – the touching and tasting and learning each other’s bodies – it’s enough for now. There’s no need to rush what might last forever, even when Dave’s slow, flat-tongued licks send sparks of want deep inside Blaine’s belly.

“Sometimes I think my Yogi Bear has turned into a cat,” Blaine says on an afternoon when Dave’s been at it for a good twenty minutes of pure heaven, licking long, languorous strokes up and down Blaine’s cock and cruelly, torturously under his balls and around his perineum with an occasional flirtatious lap against his hole.

Dave looks up and laughs. “Have you ever been licked by a cat? It hurts like hell. All those bristles.”

“It’s been a while,” Blaine says.

Dave moves up and kisses Blaine, growling into his mouth. “Nah, BooBoo. I’m definitely still a bear.”

Blaine likes this position, the way that Dave is hovering over him, his body casting shadows against Blaine’s skin. “My papa bear?” he says.

Dave laughs. “God, you’re such a perv.”

“You love it about me, though.”

“I love _you._ ”

Blaine swallows heavily around the words he wants to say. Needs to say. Has waited to say for far too long. “I love you, too.”

Blaine doesn’t like the surprise on Dave’s face. He wishes he could wipe it away.

“I do, Dave. I really do.”

And it’s true. It’s not the same kind of love he felt for Kurt – still feels sometimes when he’s lying awake at night, wondering if Kurt has moved on the way that Blaine has.

But it’s love all the same.

* * *

Blaine is committed to being patient. Absolutely, totally committed.

But he thinks he might go crazy if he doesn’t get fucked by the end of the weekend.

Blaine’s parents are out of town, which has given him and Dave a priceless opportunity to play live-in boyfriends and sex-hungry monsters. They’ve already gotten off twice last night and once this morning, but it’s not enough for Blaine. It won’t be enough until Dave is inside him, filling up the spaces that have gone empty far too long.

But so far Dave hasn’t even fingered him. Not last night before dinner when they jerked each other off on the piano bench, or later when Dave was sucking him off and Blaine let his legs fall open around his head, moaning half in ecstasy and half in frustration that Dave wouldn’t get the hint. Not during breakfast when Blaine straddled Dave, rubbing the cleft of his pajama-clad ass over Dave’s dick until they both came in their underpants.

Dave is always so damn careful with his body, aware of its size and the way that it can hurt other people. But Blaine’s not worried about getting hurt. He wants Dave to use his strength on him until he comes so hard he goes irrevocably crosseyed.

Dave spends the morning studying at the kitchen table while Blaine makes an extravagant four-course lunch that they end up eating on the three-season porch. Blaine’s no slouch when it comes to eating, but Dave can easily demolish twice as much, and then ask for dessert. Blaine would be lying if he said it wasn’t a turn on to watch him devour lumpia after lumpia, then clean up the rest of the puchero before declaring that he’s going to burst.

They go upstairs for a post-gluttony nap, naked bodies entwined. When Blaine wakes up, Dave is looking at him mischievously. “I’m hungry again.”

“Oh?” Blaine says. “There’s dessert in the fridge. Kutsinta. They’re kind of like pudding, except –”

“Not that kind of hungry,” Dave says, heading straight for Blaine’s dick.

Dave’s already got it halfway down his throat before Blaine is awake enough to speak. He nudges Dave’s head. “Wait. Stop.”

Dave moves away with alarming speed, bolting up and falling back on his heels at the foot of the bed. “Oh my god. I read you wrong. I’m sorry, I – I’m so sorry, I swear –”

“No, it’s not that.” Blaine scoots down next to Dave and reaches for his hand. “Just, if you keep doing that I’m going to come, and I really – I want something else this time.”

“Oh,” Dave looks down at his lap. “I’m not very good at giving head, am I?”

Blaine shouldn’t laugh, but he can’t help it. “Um, actually, you give amazing head, and I’m a little shocked to find out that you could think otherwise given the number of times I’ve come in your mouth.”

Dave smiles sheepishly. “So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem. I just–” Blaine takes a deep breath.”I want you to fuck me.”

“Oh.”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Um … yes?”

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“It’s just – I’ve never done that before. Fucked someone.”

Blaine takes both of Dave’s hands now, squeezes them tight. “There’s a first time for everything, if you want to.”

Dave answers with a breathless kiss. “Yeah. I want to.”

Dave goes back to sucking and sweet, soft licks – but now that Blaine knows what’s coming, it’s loses its taunting quality and becomes something that Blaine can almost lose himself in. He spreads his legs wantonly, squeals in surprise when Dave ducks down further to lavish the flat of his tongue along Blaine’s crack.

Dave lets go and lifts himself up on his elbows. “Should I not do that?” he says sheepishly.

Blaine locks eyes with him. “Oh my god, _please_ – _do_ that.”

Dave smiles impishly, hauling Blaine’s hips off the mattress and up toward his face. He dives right toward the hungry center of Blaine’s hole, unleashing a moan from Blaine so loud and crude he’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for the way Dave was moaning right back.

Blaine feels his body unwinding, the tight muscles of his ass growing lax with each kiss and lick. He thought he knew how badly his body needed this, but he had no idea. It’s more than hunger. It’s necessity.

He reaches blindly for the lube on the bedside table and tosses it down the bed at Dave. “Finger me,” he moans, surprised to hear the words come out as a demand and not a question – and somehow that turns him on even more than he already was, so he adds for good measure, “Now.”

He has to talk Dave through it, but he doesn’t mind. There’s something ineffably sexy about telling Dave exactly what he wants. And the look on Dave’s face as his fingers sink into Blaine’s body is priceless: full of wonder, yes, but also a growing confidence as Blaine responds with murmurs and clenching spasms of need. An awareness of his own power – Blaine can see it dawning in Dave’s eyes, and he almost comes before they even get to their goal.

“Now,” Blaine grunts with one last thrust onto Dave’s fingers. “Need you to fuck me now.”

He pushes Dave out and flops over to the side table, whisking a condom out of the drawer and tearing off the wrapper in one frantic motion before taking Dave’s dick in his hand. It’s hard and leaking and it looks twice as big as it was a few seconds ago, which probably isn’t possible and has something to do with Blaine’s sudden realization that in just one minute, it’s going to be plummeting the depths of his ass.

_Oh my god. We’re going to do this. This is finally happening._

He rolls the condom onto Dave and impatiently slicks him up with more lube. “God, Dave, you have no idea how bad I want this.”

Dave smiles as he kisses him. “I think I might.”

And then Blaine flops onto his back, spreading his legs wide and tugging Dave with him. Dave steadies himself with one hand on each side of Blaine’s body, his knees sinking into the mattress between Blaine’s thighs. “Um –” Dave starts, then bites his lip and lowers his eyes shyly.

“Yeah?” Blaine says.

“Would you mind being on top? Since you’re the one who knows what you’re doing?”

Blaine shouldn’t be startled at the request. It makes perfect sense. But still his mind goes blank for a moment as he tries to fully process it. “Of course,” he says after what feels like an hour but is probably only two seconds. “Of course.”

As Blaine sinks down on him, Dave looks up at him with so much undeserved reverence it makes Blaine want to hide. Because this thing – yes, he wants this connection to Dave, that’s part of it, but also – it’s just that he needs it: the knowledge that he can stretch this far without breaking, the warmth of another human being inside his body. Blaine shuts his eyes and concentrates on the sensation of being filled by something warm and living, something that needs him as much as he needs it.

It’s not what Blaine had imagined in his fantasies, but fantasies are just fantasies, and this is real. So real – this heat inside Blaine’s body, the skin and hair brushing against his thighs, the soft belly making soft, staggered breaths beneath his palms.

Fulfilling the minutiae of Blaine’s fantasies can come later. They have so much time waiting to unwind before before them, and their inhibitions will unwind with it. Blaine’s been in a relationship before; he knows how this works. It might not happen the next time or the one after that, but eventually Dave will be on top of him, inside him and over him, sheltering him from the storm.

When he’s ready, he opens his eyes again and starts moving. Dave’s still looking at him in wonderment, but it’s okay now, because Blaine is starting to feel a bit of the same sort of wonder: how did he find this man, and how did he turn out to be the exact person that Blaine needs in his life right now? Blaine seldom thinks of their first meeting, but it flashes in his mind now before he can stop it: the anger, the grasping fists, the palpable sadness that permeated that Dave’s heavy movements. And Dave’s strength – that sheer physical strength that Blaine didn’t expect, that flung his body backward against the chainlink fence and made the whole thing vibrate with a tinny clang.

The memory should probably freak Blaine out, but it doesn’t. Instead he leans down and kisses Dave hungrily, half from gratitude that Dave has changed so much, and half from arousal at the thought of Dave throwing him like that again.

“God, Blaine,” Dave breathes, coming up for air. “It – you feel incredible. So tight and –”

Blaine shifts his weight to take Dave in a little deeper.

“Oh, fuck. _Blaine_. I knew you had a great ass, but –” Dave eyes roll back in his head and his hips start stuttering, but then grasps onto Blaine’s thighs to stop himself. “Sorry. I didn’t ask if I could –.”

“It’s okay.” Blaine kisses Dave’s cheek. “I want you to fuck me. That’s kind of why I’m here.”

Dave lets out a surprised chuckle that turns into a moan as Blaine combs his fingers through the hair around Dave’s nipples and gives it a sharp twist. “Oh, Blaine, Jesus, Blaine. I love you.” Dave starts pistoning his hips now, slowly but earnestly, his shaft sliding up and down through Blaine’s tight ring.

Blaine groans at a spark skittering across his prostate. “Yeah. like that. You have no idea how badly I needed this.” Another spark, and Blaine feels like his pelvis is going to melt into a pool of warm jelly. Dave’s cock feels huge inside him, like it’s growing with each stroke, thicker and longer and moving so deep Blaine could practically impale himself on it.

But Blaine doesn’t. He lets Dave set the pace, only urging him along when he wants to hear Dave groan _fuck_ or _yes_ or _I love you_ again. It’s a strange, powerful feeling, having this much control in bed. Whenever he was with Kurt, he simply gave it up – not because Kurt demanded it (Kurt insisted on having the upper hand in the rest of their lives, but not here), but because it felt like the most natural thing to do. It was what Blaine’s body longed for, to be in Kurt’s thrall.

But right now, it’s almost like Blaine is under his own thrall.

* * *

Three weeks later, Blaine is at the Lima Bean with Dave when he gets a text from Rachel. _Kurt’s in town._

Blaine can think of only one reason that Kurt would come back to Lima. His stomach plummets all the way to his shoes. _Is Burt okay?_

“What’s wrong?” Dave says, because of course the shock is written all over Blaine’s face.

The phone buzzes again before Blaine can answer. _Mr. Hummel is fine. Kurt’s just here for a routine visit. He wants to see you._

Blaine stares at the screen, unable to think, conscious of his boyfriend’s worried eyes on him.

He has no recourse but to tell the truth. “It’s Rachel. She wanted me to know that Kurt’s in town.”

Dave breaks into a smile the size of which Blaine’s not sure he’s ever seen before. It practically swallows up Dave’s entire face. “That’s great!” he says. “We should take him out for drinks.”

“We should?”

“Sure. He’s practically the reason we’re together. We might never have met each other if it wasn’t for him.” He reaches across the table and squeezes Blaine’s hand.

Blaine forces a small, winsome smile. “You’re right. We should definitely thank him. Together.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Where did Kurt go?” Dave asks, looking over his shoulder to scan the dance floor. At least 20 minutes have passed since Kurt excused himself to the restroom, and 22 minutes since Kurt tipped Blaine’s world on its axis by declaring his intention to win back Blaine’s heart.

Twenty-two minutes since Blaine realized that Kurt didn’t need to win it back, because he still had it right in the palm of his hands. “You think he hooked up with someone in the bathroom?”

Blaine’s had a hard time concentrating on anything Dave has said since tonight’s revelation. He reminds himself to focus, then replays Dave’s words in his head until he understands them. A pang of jealousy shoots through his chest. “I don’t think anyone would hook up in that bathroom,” Blaine finally says. “But definitely not Kurt. There must be 30 years of dirt embedded in those tiles.”

Dave’s just taken a sip of his Campari; he holds it in his mouth and doesn’t swallow as stifled laughter bubbles out through his nose. He blushes and stares at the bar top before calming himself down enough for a slow gulp. “Speak for yourself.”

Blaine’s world tips a little further. “Wait,” he says, gripping the bar rail to counter the disequilibrium. “Are you telling me you’ve hooked up with someone in that bathroom?”

“More like ‘someones,’ actually,” Dave says, suppressing a proud smile.

Of course Blaine knows that Dave’s been with other guys. He has no right to get jealous or judgmental about that. It’s just that bathroom sex doesn’t jibe with Blaine’s picture of Dave as an innocent, inexperienced fledgling gay. And also? Blaine might not be as extreme as Kurt when it comes to cleanliness, but sooty grout is _not_ on Blaine’s list of turn-ons.

“Don’t worry,” Dave says, nudging Blaine’s shoulder. “It was mostly handjobs. And the time it was a blowjob, I used a condom.”

“I’m not –” Blaine stares at Kurt’s abandoned glass of Coke. Most of the ice in it has melted by now, so that in the light of the bar it’s more amber than brown. “It’s fine. You know I’ve had my share of randoms. Just – that _grout._ ”

“I _know_ ,” Dave giggles and rolls his eyes before his face goes suddenly solemn. He covers Blaine’s hand with his own and leans in with a soft whisper, “Anyway, it’s better with you. It will always be better with you.”

Blaine’s heart feels like it’s been pulled from his body and handed back to him on a platter, but he still can’t resist Dave when he’s like this: sweet and swooning and nakedly sincere. It’s always had a healing effect on Blaine, and now is no different. With each beat, Blaine’s heart feels a little less wounded, and a little more at home in his body. He turns and gives Dave a soft, slow kiss on the cheek. “My sweet papa bear,” he whispers against Dave’s skin.

They’re interrupted by the buzz of cell phones against their thighs.

**_Kurt:_ ** _Sorry I had to run. Carole called with a paella emergency and you know how I am about food. Feel free to finish my drink._

“That’s too bad. I was really looking forward to hanging out with him,” Dave says. “I wanted him to see how much I’ve changed.”

Blaine puts his hand in Dave’s. “It’s okay. _I_ know.” With his free hand, he picks up the glass of Coke and presses his lips around the straw that had been in Kurt’s mouth earlier.

It doesn’t taste like Kurt.

* * *

“Are you okay?” Dave says when he pulls up into Blaine’s driveway later that night. “You’ve seemed sort of tired all night.”

Blaine searches for reasons to lie, but can’t find any. So he says, “I don’t think Carole had a paella emergency. I think Kurt left because he was upset.”

“Really? I thought everything was going really well. He looked … happy.” For as intelligent as Dave is, he can be incredibly obtuse at times.

“That was his fake smile,” Blaine says.

“Huh,” Dave says. “Is he still uncomfortable around me? I thought – I thought Kurt and I were good now.”

“I think he might be,” Blaine says. “I mean, he really did forgive you, but … Kurt forgives people easily. It’s the forgetting that’s the hard part.”

“Oh.” Dave sounds profoundly sad.

Blaine takes his hand. “Don’t take it personally. He never forgot the things he’d forgiven me for, either.” When Blaine has a hard time sleeping, it’s often because Kurt’s passive-aggressive jokes about the time Blaine cheated are playing on repeat in his head. “It’s probably for the best that we broke up.”

“It feels awful,” Dave says.

“It does.”

They sit in the car for a minute, staring out the windshield at the garage door and not saying anything. Despite their clasped hands, Blaine feels the loneliest he’s felt in months.

Dave is the first to break the silence. “So Kurt being upset – is that why you’re upset?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, though of course that’s not the whole of it. And then, “I’m sorry.”

Dave looks at him and shrugs one shoulder. “It’s nothing to be sorry for. You were going to marry him. Of course you still care about his feelings.”

Blaine doesn’t deserve this. Not with the disloyal, confused heart beating in his chest. And yet he finds himself asking for more. “Stay with me tonight?”

Dave glances at the house. “What about your parents?”

“They should be asleep by now. And if not, I’ll deal with them. I just – I need you with me tonight. Please.” Blaine blinks, trying not to cry.

Dave leans over and kisses Blaine softly. “Of course,” he says. “I’d do anything for you.”

* * *

Dave’s body is warm under the blankets, the texture of his hair comforting under Blaine’s palm. Blaine kisses his shoulder and whispers, “Make love to me.”

“You’re not worried about –?” Dave says, not needing to finish the sentence because they both know he’s referring to Blaine’s parents.

“I’ll be quiet,” Blaine says solemnly. “I need you inside me.”

“Jesus, Blaine. You know I can’t say no when you talk like that.”

“Am I taking advantage?”

Dave cups his hands around Blaine’s jaw and pulls him in for a slow, deep kiss. “No. I always want you.”

There’s more kissing – so much kissing, soft and eager and hungry: kisses on the lips that send tingles of pleasure all the way to Blaine’s toes; reverent kisses on the cheeks and eyelids; forceful, sucking kisses on neck and chest that make Blaine grow hard; kisses across hips and down thighs. Long, wet kisses of mouths on cocks, and of mouth to ass.

“Dave,” Blaine whispers, his body growing more desperate with each press of Dave’s lips to his hole. And then a little louder, “Oh, Dave.”

Dave looks up with a smile on his face. “What was that you said about being quiet?”

Blaine grins back impishly. “I guess you’re going to have to put something in my mouth to shut me up.”

“Like what?”

Blaine flips himself over on the bed, his feet toward the headboard. “Lie back,” he says, taking Dave’s cock into his mouth and lowering his ass to Dave’s face.

“Jesus,” Dave moans. Blaine can’t see Dave’s face, but he doesn’t have to: he can practically hear Dave’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Who’s making noise now?” Blaine teases.

“Guess I need something in my mouth, too,” Dave says and without further ado spreads Blaine’s cheeks and starts french kissing his asshole.

Cock in mouth and tongue in ass: the sensations are overwhelming, skittering across Blaine’s skin and through his spine, charging every muscle in his body with a fine electric tremor. The tip of his cock bounces against Dave’s collarbone, gliding against skin and sweat, and with just a little more pressure he could come.

It’s almost enough to make Blaine forget the ache in his heart.

He pops off of Dave’s cock and rights himself on the bed, lying on his back and pulling Dave over him. He grapples blindly for the condom on the nightstand, kissing Dave urgently as he unrolls it on Dave’s hard cock and strokes a lube-filled hand up and down Dave’s length. He wraps his legs around Dave’s waist and pulls him flush between his thighs. “I need you inside me,” Blaine whispers. “Now.”

Dave quivers with the effort of keeping his weight off Blaine. “Like this?” he says apprehensively. “With me … on top?” They’ve never done it in this position, because Blaine has always given in to Dave’s fretting that he’ll crush Blaine under him. Blaine won’t give in this time. Can’t. He needs the security of Dave’s body covering his, needs the pressure of his weight to squeeze out the pain in his heart.

Blaine nods, reaching his hand between them to guide Dave’s cock. “I need you this way. Please. For me.”

“Anything,” Dave says, his lips trembling. “Anything for you.”

Blaine takes a deep breath. He doesn’t deserve so much love from this man, but he’ll take it all the same. He kisses Dave’s chin. “Just let yourself sink in a little at first. You’ll feel when I’m ready for more.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

It’s perfect: Dave’s cautious, incremental slide in; the stunned, ecstatic look in Dave’s eyes; the kisses and _I love yous_ whispered against Blaine’s scalp. Dave’s cock feels huge and essential inside him. It almost blocks out every other sensation.

Almost, but not quite.

“Move,” Blaine says. “Please move.”

Dave is slow and deliberate at first, but then Blaine starts to move in counter-time to Dave’s thrusts, sinking him deeper and deeper, and Dave starts to lose control. He starts fucking Blaine in earnest, all his energy concentrated on that one connection point between them. Soon he forgets about holding himself up and collapses, his chest and belly flat against Blaine’s, his weight pressing Blaine’s cock between their bellies.

“Oh god,” Blaine moans, forgetting his pledge to be quiet. He’s forgotten everything that came before this moment, is cognizant of nothing but the sweet, obliterating movement of Dave inside him and with him, the pleasure surging through both their bodies. “You have no idea – oh god, yes – I needed – I need – _oh_.” The wave is cresting too soon, but there’s no stopping it – not with the way that Dave’s gorgeous belly slides against Blaine’s cock with each stroke Dave makes inside him, not with the way that Blaine feels under Dave’s body: immovable and sheltered and secure.

“I love you, Dave,” Blaine whispers just before he starts to come, and then, “I love you, I love you,” as the wave hits him full force. His ass clenches and his cock spurts and Dave fucks him even faster, his breath stuttering and Blaine’s cock sliding in the semen on their stomachs. It’s all so good: Blaine feels like he’s never going to stop coming, never _wants_ to stop, wants Dave to keep fucking him until he can’t remember his own name.

But then Dave gets that beautiful, wide-eyed, almost terrified look that always comes into his eyes right before he comes, and Blaine wants _that_ even more. He wants Dave to feel this sublime, impossible ecstasy.

“Blaine,” Dave whispers like it’s something holy.

Blaine holds Dave’s face in his hands. “I’m here.”

Blaine’s ass makes a gratified quiver as Dave pushes in with one last, long thrust and comes.

“I love you,” Blaine whispers again.

Later that night, as he watches Dave sleep against the pillow, Blaine whispers it one last time. But it’s not just Dave he’s speaking to. Ever since the afterglow wore off, Kurt’s face hasn’t left his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

Blaine is irritated with Dave the rest of the day after they run into Kurt at Between the Sheets, but he tries not to show it.

What sets Blaine off is when Dave leans down to give him a kiss as they’re about to leave the store – which he’s probably done a dozen times before in public without Blaine’s brain making a federal case out of it, even if it does always make him feel slightly guilty that Dave can get away with PDA without anyone trying to beat him up, while Kurt never could.

Still, that’s not Dave’s fault. And in every other situation, Blaine loves the protection that Dave’s size affords. So he’s never moved away from those public kisses, even when old habits urge him to.

But today when he sees Dave’s lips moving toward him, he spins on his heels and runs back toward the sheet music like a tornado siren just went off and that section of the store offers the sturdiest shelter. “We forgot Whitney Houston!” he cries out.

“A true show choir director would never forget Whitney,” he hears Kurt say with _(feigned?)_ contempt from behind a bookcase somewhere. Blaine turns to locate the source of the voice, but Kurt might as well be a disembodied spirit. He is visible nowhere.

“Don’t you already have a bunch of Whitney Houston at home?” Dave comes up from behind, casually linking his hand with Blaine’s. Blaine shrugs away and starts flipping through the choices, barely paying attention to the titles.

Blaine shrugs. “One can never have enough.” He grabs [“Didn’t We Almost Have It All”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i_4PlM85NJo&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B&index=11) and brings it to the register.

“At least it’s not showtunes,” Dave says, winking. This time when he leans in to kiss Blaine’s cheek, there’s no way to avoid it.

 _Are you trying to rub it in his face?_ Blaine is so close to saying it, but how can he? He still hasn’t told Dave the reason Kurt came back to Lima in the first place. He probably never will.

So he lets Dave kiss him and, to hide his anger, kisses Dave back.

He just hopes Kurt is still behind a bookshelf and won’t see.

He holds Dave’s hand out to the car and on their way to the Lima Bean, but he doesn’t say much. He stares out the window and stews. The anger isn’t just about the PDA. It has its genesis in the smarmy comment Dave made to Kurt about Blaine’s love of Broadway.

Or no, actually –come to think of it – it’s been building up for days, ever since Blaine made the mistake of asking for help with the Warblers’ set list. Dave took one look at Blaine’s draft and said with a smile, “BooBoo, it’s like pulling teeth to get you to consider anything other than Broadway, isn’t it?”

 _Do you even know me?_ Blaine wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and instead made a showtune-free playlist for whenever Dave’s around. Dave doesn’t seem to have noticed; he’s made the same quip about showtunes every day since like it’s the greatest witticism anyone has ever come up with.

Blaine should be more generous about the whole thing, though. It’s probably his own fault that Dave has misgauged his musical taste; Blaine’s been listening to a higher ratio of Broadway to pop ever since the break-up, with a special emphasis on Somber Sondheim and Angsty Lloyd Webber.

And underneath the jabs, Dave is trying to be helpful. He actually made a lot of decent suggestions when they were at Between the Sheets, and Blaine really needed that help. Otherwise, he probably would have spent all afternoon deluding himself that Carole King’s most depressing hits and “[I Know Him So Well](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3hqnfbkxLlo&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B&index=3)” from _Chess_ would make a good competition set.

They’re finishing their drinks at the Lima Bean just now, Dave flipping through the stack of music they picked while Blaine nibbles half-heartedly at the edges of a sugar cookie. His stomach won’t settle, even though he’s drinking ginger tea instead of his usual coffee.

“You have a lot of good stuff here.” Dave nods approvingly at a collection of solid rock hits from 1969-1999, then picks up sheet music for Dolly Parton’s [“The Bargain Store”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K94QvVXoHCY&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B) and adds, “I don’t know this one.”

Blaine tries not to gloat, but isn’t entirely successful. “What? Do I know more country than you do?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Dave says. He’s smiling – no, beaming – like he’s perfectly charmed by what Blaine’s just said. Like he thinks that Blaine was flirting instead of making a jab.

“See? I don’t just listen to showtunes,” Blaine says, softening his own defensiveness with a bat of the eyelids. “And it’s not just country I know. I can rap. And I like synthpop and folk and hiphop and metal and –”

Dave gives him a look.. “Name one Pantera album.”

 _Pantera? Who’s Pantera?_ Blaine should have kept his mouth shut. He grimaces until, realizing what he’s doing, he turns his lips into an open smile. “You win.”

* * *

Blaine feels ashamed of himself the next morning. It’s not Dave’s fault that Blaine has more baggage than a carousel at LaGuardia airport. Dave’s been patient with all of it, nothing but good and kind and more supportive than any person has a right to expect.

Blaine tries to look at the whole Between the Sheets debacle in a different light. He reminds himself that Dave came to his rescue as soon as he realized Kurt was there, how he stood beside Blaine and wrapped his arm around him, solid and secure the way that Blaine usually likes. It’s not Dave’s fault that Blaine didn’t like it at that moment, that Blaine had the strange, unfamiliar sensation that Dave’s embrace wasn’t a shelter, but a prison.

Blaine is going to make things right.

He invites Dave over for lunch and spends the morning preparing things he knows Dave will love. And Dave does. He tries to tell Blaine about his apartment hunt as they eat, but he keeps interrupting himself to rave about the chicken adobo. “And this pumpkin with the beans! I never knew pumpkin could taste this good outside of pie.”

“We’ve got a pumpkin pie in the freezer I could thaw, if you want to do a direct taste comparison,” Blaine says flirtily.

“Nah, you don’t have to do that. This is more than enough.” Dave leans over and kisses Blaine on the cheek, and suddenly everything is good again. Blaine remembers how he fell in love with Dave in the first place.

“I’ve been thinking about your apartment,” Blaine says.

“Yeah?” Dave starts serving himself another helping of squash, but when he looks up he must see something in Blaine’s face because he sets down the spoon and reaches for Blaine’s hand. “What is it?”

“We should get an apartment together. I’d like to live with you, if – if you’ll have me.”

Dave is stock still except for his jaw, which is falling slowly open in what must be shock. Blaine wonders if he’s said the wrong thing. Oh god, has he said the wrong thing?

But then Dave is leaning in and cradling Blaine’s jaw in both hands. “I – of course, Blaine. _Of course_ ,” and Dave kisses him so deep that Blaine’s toes curl.

* * *

“And Dave?” Dr. Joyce asks at their next biweekly appointment, after Blaine catches her up on the disappointing loss of the only girl Warbler to McKinley High and how Kurt seems to have made it his mission in life to twist the knife in Blaine’s heart deeper. “How are things going with him?”

“Great! We’re moving in together.”

Blaine didn’t think it was possible to shock Dr. Joyce with anything. She’s heard so many awful, shameful things: about him cheating on Kurt, about him sort of almost trying to kill himself, about his binging and body issues, about disturbing sexual fantasies that he never even shared with Kurt.

But apparently it’s possible, because Dr. Joyce’s jaw and pen drop at once.

She shuts her mouth and picks the pen up off the floor. “Sorry, Blaine. I guess it’s obvious that I’m a bit … surprised at that news.”

“You think it’s a mistake,” Blaine says.

She tilts her head and hums. “It’s sooner than I would have expected. The last time we talked about your living arrangements, you said you wanted to try living on your own for a while if you decided to move out of your parents’ house.”

Blaine had forgotten all about that. “I guess I changed my mind.”

“I guess you have.”

“Anyway, I probably said that because I was still bitter about what happened with Kurt. But now – Things are different with Dave. We never fight.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.”

“Well, it’s true. Even if something comes up, it’s just not worth it, you know? I wasted so much time arguing with Kurt when we could have been trying to make each other happy.”

“Hmmm,” Dr. Joyce nods. “What kinds of things have come up between you and Dave? That is, things you might have argued about if you felt inclined to do so?”

Blaine shrugs. “Nothing important, really. He doesn’t get my taste in music. Like, he seems to think that Broadway musicals are all I ever listen to, which couldn’t be further from the truth. I got really annoyed at him about that a few days ago because he kept ribbing me about it, but then I realized I was being stupid.”

“Why were you annoyed? Did you feel like he was stereotyping you as a gay man?”

“Um.” Blaine swallows heavily. She’s put her finger right on the point when he didn’t even _know_ there was a point. “But that doesn’t make any sense, does it? I mean, he’s gay too, and _he_ doesn’t listen to showtunes.”

“You’ve mentioned that he was closeted until fairly recently.”

“Compared with me, I guess. He’s been out a couple years, maybe?”

“Playing around with stereotypes – seeking some out and rejecting others, defining yourself and the people around you in relation to them – it’s all part of the coming out process. So that might be part of what’s going on.”

“That makes sense. I’ve done some of that myself.” Still, the way that Dave treats it like a joke – the way he rolls his eyes when Blaine plays “[Send In the Clowns](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yvZex3Qf7QQ&index=8&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B)” on repeat like it’s anything but beautiful – it still hurts.

And it must show in Blaine’s face, because Dr. Joyce says, “That doesn’t make it feel any better, does it?”

“Not really,” Blaine says. “I mean, sometimes I feel so proud of how far he’s come since I first met him. And sometimes –”

“Yes?”

The words form almost faster than Blaine can think them. “Sometimes I feel like he hasn’t come that far at all. When we first met, all he could see was that I was gay. And now – sometimes it feels like that’s still the most important thing about me to him. It’s just gone from being a bad thing to being a good thing. Sometimes when he goes down on me, he talks about how great it is because it makes him feel so gay to have a penis in his mouth. It’s like – it’s not about me at all. Which is stupid for me to even think, because he loves me, I know he does, but –” His eyes well up from a burden of pain that Blaine didn’t even realize he was carrying.

He lets the tears fall, concentrates on keeping the air moving in and out of his lungs.

“You’re doing a great job with breathing, Blaine,” Dr. Joyce says. “I’m proud of you.”

“I want to be more than someone’s pride flag. I want someone who sees me for who I am.”

“Did that happen with Kurt, too? Feeling like he didn’t really see you?”

Blaine shakes his head. “I only ever worried that he didn’t love me. But I always felt like he could see me for who I was. Sometimes better than I could see myself.”

“You’re still mourning him, aren’t you?”

Blaine nods. “It’s stupid. It’s not like he’s dead. And if I wanted to be back with him, I could. So there’s nothing to mourn. I’m choosing not to go back to him. I shouldn’t be sad about it anymore.”

“Is that why you’re moving in with Dave? To move on?”

Blaine shrugs. “I like Dave. Being around him – it makes me feel safe.”

“Often, we’re first attracted to people because of what they symbolize to us. With you, I’d venture that a lot of your attraction to Dave grew out of how different he is from Kurt. He stood for a break from the past. And maybe for Dave, part of the attraction is how comfortable you are being gay. There’s often a stage in relationships where the reason for that initial attraction becomes a source of conflict. It’s how you deal with it that matters, and whether you find other things to build the relationship on.”

Blaine takes a deep breath. “I think there’s enough. I want to make this work.” _I don’t want to fuck up again._

“Well,” Dr. Joyce says. “That’s half of it.”

* * *

Living together is good, despite the lack of a real bed and a decor that looks like My Little Pony got the runs from too many magic mushrooms and ended up shitting rainbows on everything. And Dave actually loves the decor. He loves how gay it is, and he especially loves the looks on his study partners’ faces when they come over to work on projects and realize that he really is as queer as a football bat.

“I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” Dave will say, grabbing Blaine by the hand no matter what Blaine’s in the middle of doing and pulling him close to his side. “If you ever have any questions about fashion, he’s the one to go to. He’s subscribed to _Vogue_ since he was 9 years old.”

“Nice to meet you,” they say, and Blaine tries not to get perturbed that he has to tell them his name because Dave forgets to half the time.

It’s important not to get irritated, because everything is otherwise perfect. It’s easier to meet halfway on stuff with Dave than it ever was with Kurt, maybe because the apartment is something that Blaine and Dave chose together, so it doesn’t feel like Blaine needs to constantly struggle just to assert a tiny bit of the space as his own. He can make concessions without Dave even asking him to. Like, Blaine mostly listens to showtunes only when Dave’s not around, and when he sort of cheats by playing the [Brian Ferry version of “Send in the Clowns”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c6rzOl4ZDfo&index=10&list=PL-cIAjOpypsHj9y_mlyI4OY1yhVg6Qv2B) one evening while Dave is studying and Dave looks up and goes, “Is this Rush?” – well, Blaine doesn’t explode into a rage-filled explanation about the difference between art rock and prog rock and _oh my god how can you not know who Brian Ferry is and worship the ground he walks on?_ because he’s not carrying 18 tons of resentment on his shoulders the way he was with Kurt.

Learning to live with those kinds of compromises is almost its own reward, but it sweetens the deal that Dave is happier than Blaine has ever seen him – which is really saying something, since Dave (or _this_ Dave, the one that Blaine’s known since returning to Lima) has always been an easy-going guy.

There’s only one area in which Dave isn’t easy-going, and that’s fucking. Ever since their first air mattress blew out during a particularly active session of missionary-style sex, Dave’s been averse to that position. Blaine keeps trying to sweet-talk some sense into Dave, but he’s adamant about not destroying their new air mattress, and the one time they tried missionary on the floor, Blaine got such bad rug burn on his back he had to give up shaving it for two weeks.

Brittany’s recent U-Haul and moped comment hasn’t helped at all in that department, either. “Are you sure I’m not crushing you in that position?” Dave asked the last time Blaine brought it up.

Blaine refrained from saying _I want you to crush me._ Instead he said, “Not at all. It feels good to have you on top of me.”

Dave reached out and rubbed Blaine’s arm. “When we get the new mattress we can try it again.”

They’re still having a lot of sex, but Dave is so careful on the air mattress – careful with how he moves and how he touches Blaine’s body – and there’s something incredibly sweet about that which gives Blaine this melting, warm feeling around his sternum that he thought he’d never feel again after Kurt broke up with him. But it’s still not enough to make the almost-constant ache of missing Kurt go away.

They get more boisterous away from the mattress. They wrestle each other to the floor, squirming and giggling until Blaine has Dave flat on his back and pins him there with his thighs, pulling roughly at Dave’s clothes until he’s naked beneath Blaine. Dave likes to wriggle and pretend he’s trying to get away, but Blaine won’t let him; he orders Dave to take off his pants and then he sinks down on Dave, sometimes with his shirt still on and his bowtie snug around his neck, moaning, “I’m gonna ride you like a rodeo bull, papa bear,” as if it’s a threat and not a promise that Dave delights in.

Blaine clutching Dave’s chest hair like reins while Dave bucks his hips up and down, up and down, the movement of his body making Blaine blind to almost everything else.

Almost, but not quite. Because even there, with Dave gripping his hips and pumping his shaft deep within Blaine’s body, Blaine has too much control. The tension that’s been wound around his body ever since Kurt moved back into town – Blaine can feel it, even then.

But today is different, because Dave has graciously acquiesced to bending Blaine over the kitchen table and fucking him from behind. That’s where they are right now, Dave making small rolls with his hips that spark lights in Blaine’s closed eyes. “Fuck yes,” Blaine murmurs, grabbing onto the tablecloth with both hands and letting out a guttural wail as Dave slides against his prostate.

Dave grunts and grabs onto Blaine’s hips, pulling Blaine’s ass flat against his pelvis and plunging impossibly deeper.

“Oh god,” Blaine moans, hyper-aware of Dave’s pubic hair against his skin, the sweat that slides between their bodies. Dave starts moving slowly, then upping the tempo in time with Blaine’s crescendoing moans. It’s so good, so close to perfect, just – Blaine needs _more_. His body is still too tense, and Dave is the only one who can make everything better.

Blaine needs to be ravished.

He needs to be fucked out of his mind.

“Papa, fuck me harder. _Please_ ,” Blaine cries out, so desperate he’s close to tears.

“Don’t want to hurt you,” Dave says.

“You’re not gonna – oh god like that – you’re not gonna hurt me. Please, _please,_ just –”

“Just promise you’ll stop me if–”

“I promise.”

Dave picks up the pace. The table shakes beneath them, its odd leg _thump-thump-thumping_ against the floor with each of Dave’s thrusts.

“Oh god, yes, like that, please, I’m so close, just –” Blaine feels the hairs of Dave’s chest tickle against his back, then the hard press of skin against skin, the weight of Dave’s body on him. It’s heavy, pressing Blaine into the tabletop, not quite pinning him down but still making it hard for him to move, hard for him to do anything but lie there and take it, take the fast rapid churning of Dave’s hips and the pistoning of Dave’s cock inside his body, and it’s so good, just a little more, just a little faster, please god oh – “Fuck me, daddy. Make me take it.”

Dave murmurs Blaine’s name over and over like he always does when he’s close, murmurs it between kisses along Blaine’s scalp and neck. He pumps faster, slamming into Blaine and making the table pound wildly against the floor – not just thumping now, but loud, rapid _kathwacks_ that sound like machine gun fire.

“Oh, daddy, like that, _oh_ –” and then Blaine can’t speak because all his nerves are focused on this one, singular pleasure. Blaine barely even has the room to breathe but it doesn’t matter, because the only thing he feels is Dave fucking him, fucking so deep that his whole body feels it and nothing else.

Every uncomfortable feeling that Blaine has ever had is forgotten, replaced instead by hungry bliss.

Dave reaches around and closes his hand around Blaine’s cock, stroking it and soothing its throbbing heat, and – _oh_ – Blaine swears he can feel Dave’s cock swell a little more, obliterate Blaine’s ego a little more, right before they both come.

 _Fuck,_ Blaine tries to say, but his nerves are still short-circuiting, so all that comes out is a loud grunt and long streak of semen that trickles down the side of the tablecloth.

Later, when the high starts to wear off, they giggle about the come stain. “We should leave it there. It looks like part of the tie-dye pattern,” Dave observes from their vantage point on the floor.

Blaine is using Dave’s chest as a pillow, resting his head against Dave’s heart. When Dave laughs, it’s like the whole earth is shaking. Blaine has no idea how he ever managed to be unhappy with this man.

* * *

Dave and Blaine are split on whether to get  a king- or queen-size mattress for their real bed, but Blaine finally gives into Dave’s preference because it’s really not that important and anyway, he really needs a mattress. Any resentment he might carry over the decision quickly disappears on the day that the mattress arrives. Seconds after the delivery team has left, Dave turns to Blaine and says with a mischievous grin, “What was that you were saying the other day? Something about missionary?”

Blaine falls onto the bed without even removing the plastic first, and they spend the rest of the afternoon and a good part of the night breaking the mattress in – with a brief coda first thing the next morning.

Blaine shows up at Warblers’ rehearsal the next day exhausted but energized, full of new ideas for the upcoming invitational – most of them borrowed from Dave, because he suddenly sees that maybe Dave was right about Blaine being too stuck on depressing showtunes.

Going with Dave’s mattress choice didn’t kill him, and going with his music choice won’t kill him, either.

* * *

Blaine has the day off from work since the Warblers are all tied up in mid-term exams. It’s unseasonably warm, perfect for a picnic in light sweaters, so he and Dave make plans to meet up by the pond outside Keese Hall between Dave’s morning and afternoon classes.

It’s a much-needed respite. Things were awkward for a while after Sue Sylvester introduced Blaine to every one of Dave’s ex-boyfriends and randoms. They were all so big and burly, with soft round bellies and more facial hair than Blaine’s probably grown over the course of his life.

 _What do you see in me?_ Blaine wanted to ask, but instead he said one night as they were washing dishes after dinner, “I fall outside your usual type, don’t I?”

Dave shrugged. “Who knows what my usual type is? I’ve only been out for a couple years.” He set down the dish towel and snugged up behind Blaine, wrapping his big, comforting hands around Blaine’s waist. “All I know is that I love being with you.”

Getting over the third-cousin thing was more difficult, but ironically it was Kurt who enabled them to start having sex again by pointing out Principal Sylvester’s tendency toward pathological lying. And then Brittany pointed out that even if they were third cousins, they probably only shared 0.781% of their genes, so it really wasn’t creepy at all.

“Oh my god,” said Dave, collapsing on the bed after their first time at it after the Sylvester-induced dry spell. “I can’t believe we went so long without _that_ just because we thought we might be distant cousins.”

Blaine giggled and bit his shoulder. “Especially given my proclivity for calling you _daddy.”_

Dave laughed and pulled Blaine on top of him so they could start all over again.

And then there’s Kurt, who Blaine has been running into on an ever-more regular basis as competition season swings into gear. Blaine loves Dave, but still has to fight the urge to reach for Kurt’s hand every time they talk.

Kurt is dating now. He’s moving along the way that Blaine was supposed to have moved along months ago. And now it’s time for Blaine to actually do it.

Blaine wants to be better to Dave. It’s not right for Blaine to go around after what-ifs and has-beens when he has someone wonderful right beside him, or to be churlish with Dave when Blaine arrives home with a freshly broken heart. Sure, their relationship isn’t perfect and they have their moments of unspoken friction, but if Blaine could get over Kurt it would take care of most of the problem.

This is the right relationship for Blaine. Despite the occasional misunderstanding with Dave, there’s never been harsh words. Things have never gotten ugly the way they did with Kurt.

Blaine is going to make this work.

Blaine doesn’t have time to make anything too extravagant for the picnic – just a simple salad and sandwiches with lemon-ricotta cupcakes for dessert – but he makes sure the presentation is impeccable: nice steel flatware instead of plastic; heavy glass tumblers that won’t tip over in the breeze; melamine dishes that look like ceramic; a vase overflowing with purple asters and yellow chrysanthemums; and, in a nod to Dave’s tastes, a tartan picnic blanket in rainbow colors.

There are students scattered across the lawn, enjoying the Indian summer as they study or chow down on a snack between classes. Blaine nonetheless manages to find a perfect spot in the sun, close enough to the pond to enjoy the whir of the fountain but at least 10 yards from anyone else – far enough for him and Dave to enjoy their own semi-private romantic bubble.

When Dave comes out of the building and sees him, his face lights up in that way it only ever does for Blaine. “I can’t believe you did this all for me, BooBoo,” Dave says as he settles on the blanket. “This is such a beautiful spread.”

Blaine ducks his head, overcome with delight. “Thank you.” He gestures toward the flowers. “These are for you.”

“I –” Dave starts, but is too overcome to finish his sentence. He puts his hand over his heart and blinks slowly, as if waking from a dream. “That’s so sweet. No one’s ever gotten me flowers before.”

“Well,” Blaine says, suddenly ashamed that he never thought to bring Dave flowers until now. “You deserve them.”

“Thanks, BooBoo.” When Dave leans in to give him a peck on the cheek, Blaine’s feels the familiar flare of guilt for getting away with something he never could do with Kurt.

But Blaine soon forgets about that as they dig into the picnic, the guilt replaced by a soft, warm pleasure deep in Blaine’s belly. It’s the food, yes – but it’s also the feeling of the sun on his skin and the sight of it on Dave’s, and the way the natural light makes Dave’s eyes look lighter than usual, like green-brown tourmaline. It’s watching Dave relish what Blaine’s made for him, hearing him sigh at a particularly sharp burst of pleasure on his taste buds.

“God, Blaine,” Dave says as he sucks the last of the cupcake frosting from his fingers. “I’m getting a boner just from the way you’re looking at me.”

Blaine blushes. “I can’t say I mind.”

Dave leans in to kiss Blaine, and just as quickly the guilt returns. Blaine finds himself unable to kiss back, despite the desire licking at his groin. He closes his mouth and turns away, reaching for the flowers and starting to move them around in their vase as if the weather service just declared a local flower-arranging emergency.

Dave traces his finger over the back of Blaine’s wrists. “C’mon,” he says. “I want to make out with you.”

“I can’t,” Blaine mutters regretfully. “Not here.”

“Why not?” Dave says. “You’re gorgeous and I want you.”

Pain flares near Blaine’s heart. He’s not being fair to Dave; he knows it. It’s not Dave’s fault that Blaine could never do this with Kurt. Or at least, any part of it that was Dave’s fault, he’s tried to undo ever since.

And it’s not Dave’s fault that Blaine’s strange sense of justice makes him feel like whatever was off-limits with Kurt has to be off-limits with everybody. Kurt shouldn’t be the standard against which Blaine measures everything.

But he is.

“I want you, too. If we were by ourselves –”

“Are you ashamed of being gay?”

“No!” Blood roils in Blaine’s ears. Who does Dave think he is? He has no right to accuse Blaine like that, especially considering how deep in the closet he was when Blaine first met him.

“Because the breeders over there are practically fucking in front of everybody.”

Blaine looks to where Dave is pointing, blushes a deeper red upon discovering that what Dave’s said isn’t far from the truth. He squints his eyes as he turns away, trying to erase the image from his mind.

“If they’re doing _that_ , there’s no reason we shouldn’t be able to _kiss_ here,” Dave says. “No one’s going to hurt you when I’m around.”

The words sound wrong coming from Dave’s mouth. They set off an echo in Blaine’s mind – ([ _Nothing’s gonna harm you, not while I’m around_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fEDBfgLn3pA) _)_ – and then a cascade of memories:

His own voice in a too-quiet hospital room. _(No one's gonna hurt you, no one's gonna dare.)_ The cold beeping of machinery under Kurt’s labored breathing. _(Demons are prowling everywhere, nowadays, I'll send 'em howling – I don't care.)_ Blaine’s own muffled sobs against Kurt’s skin and against the pillows of Blaine’s lonely Lima bed. _(Being close and being clever ain't like being true.)_ Kurt’s voice, earnest and warm, and his hand covering Blaine’s – tying them together, making Blaine secure.

Something inside Blaine snaps. He grabs Dave by both shoulders and climbs onto his lap, shoving his chest flush with Dave’s and wrapping his hands around Dave’s jaw, forcing Dave to look up at him. Their faces are close enough for kissing, but that’s the furthest thing from Blaine’s mind. “Is this what you want?” he says through gritted teeth.  “You wanna wear me like a rainbow flag?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dave wriggles under Blaine, trying to flick him off.

But Blaine is tenacious. His thighs grip Dave’s hips like the jaws of an angry dog on flesh. He doesn’t budge. “It means I’m sick of you objectifying me. I want you to stop showing me off like a prize you won at Gay Bingo Night.”

“Objectifying?” Dave says incredulously. “You’re one to talk.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When is the last time you said my name during sex?”

“Excuse me?”

“You don’t know? Let me tell you: I’m pretty sure it was the night that Kurt came back to Lima. Ever since then it’s all about how big I am, and _papa_ this and _daddy_ that and can I please fuck you harder because apparently that’s all I’m good for, fucking you with a body that’s nothing like your fancy ex-fiance’s so maybe you can ignore the fact that you’re still hung up on him.”

It’s a splash of cold water. All of a sudden Blaine is aware of everything around them: the sunlight glinting against the grass and the besotted laughter of a couple ten yards away, the soft _whoosh-whoosh_ of the fountain. A breeze against his skin, carrying the scent of decaying leaves from some unknown place.

Dave’s eyes are welling with tears.

Blaine leans back so fast he almost falls off Dave’s lap.

Dave instinctively swings out his arms and to catch Blaine. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he whispers.

“Dave,” Blaine says, because he doesn’t know what else to say, and because saying it now might be the first step toward making up for all the times he didn’t say it. Blaine reaches out and strokes Dave’s hair. “Dave.”

Dave is looking at him, unwavering. He blinks, and a tear falls down his cheek, leaving a pink trail in its wake. “I love you so much, Blaine. I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do.”

“I don’t know, Dave. I wish I knew.” He lowers his arms around Dave’s shoulders, pulls Dave to his chest. Dave relaxes in Blaine’s arms, sinks his head to Blaine’s shoulder. “I love you, too, Dave. I really do.”

“But it’s not enough?”

“I don’t know. I want it to be.”

* * *

At home, Dave sets the flowers on the bedside table. He’s had them in his hands ever since they packed up their picnic supplies: carrying them to the car as cautiously as a newborn baby, holding them steady in his lap as Blaine drove the two of them back to their apartment.

It’s one of those times that living with the person you love seems like the stupidest idea in the world. Dave ends up going back to campus to get away from the apartment, and when he comes back Blaine goes to the gym and punches the bags harder than he should for someone so out of practice. The anger with Dave has dissipated, but the anger with himself is still there.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing Blaine says when he walks back into the apartment. “I shouldn’t have held everything in for so long. I keep thinking if I don’t say something, the problem will just go away. I thought I’d learned my lesson with Kurt, but –” He shrugs a shoulder. He hadn’t meant to bring up Kurt again. But maybe hiding his feelings about that is part of the problem. He never avoided talking about Kurt when Dave was just his friend; in fact, talking about Kurt was one of the things that had brought them so close together in the first place.

Dave is sitting at the kitchen table with a lasagna and two place settings; he gestures for Blaine to sit down.

“And I never meant to hurt you, Dave.” Blaine reaches his hand halfway across the table and lets it rest there, palm up, on the off chance that Dave will be willing to take it. “You’re more than a body to me. I just … really love your body. But I also love _you_.”

Dave fiddles with the napkin on his lap. “I know,” he says quietly. “And I usually like your dirty talk. I just … I want there to be more than that.”’

“There is,” Blaine says. “I’ve been bad at showing it, but I can do better.”

“But there’s the other thing, too.” Dave stares down at Blaine’s outstretched hand. “I don’t know if I can deal with you also being in love with Kurt.”

“I don’t want to be.”

Dave smiles and looks up at that, but the smile is small and sardonic. “And I didn’t want to be gay, but that didn’t do much good, did it?”

Blaine’s fingers curl shut, but he doesn’t remove his hand from the center of the table. “Do you really think it’s as inevitable as that?”

“I don’t know. But you’ve been in love with him for as long as I’ve known you. So it’s hard to imagine anything else.”

“I wish you’d said something. I wish you’d told me that you knew.”

“But then you might never have gone out with me, and I wanted that more than I wanted you not to be in love with Kurt.” Dave lifts his hand from his lap and places it in Blaine’s. It’s warm and strong and familiar. It’s exactly what Blaine needs right now. “I don’t regret anything, just in case you were wondering.”

Blaine squeezes Dave’s hand. “Me neither.”

* * *

Later as they get ready for bed, Blaine notices the flowers still on the nightstand. “I thought you might throw those away while I was at the gym,” he says. “I wouldn’t have blamed you if you had.”

Dave rests his palm against the small of Blaine’s back and pulls him in for a kiss. Blaine goes willingly, wraps his arms over Dave’s shoulders to bring him closer. He’s not sure what the future holds for the two of them, but it doesn’t matter. This is what he wants right now.

“Of course I didn’t throw them away,” Dave whispers against Blaine’s lips. “Someone important gave them to me.”

 


End file.
